Over the next few weeks, Aiden tested the limits of his freedom within the house.
It was a huge, T-shaped mansion that was a compelling amalgamation of Western and Arabic cultures. Some of the rooms wouldn’t have looked out of place in fancy five-star hotels back home, but some of them looked like something straight out of Aladdin. Aiden found the contrast fascinating. Bizarrely, the mix of cultures didn’t seem bizarre at all. It worked, creating a house that felt elegant, tasteful, slightly exotic, but homey, despite its size. Aiden would have loved this house—if he weren’t imprisoned in it.
There was a room on the first floor where the staff gathered for prayers five times a day. Aiden loitered outside the room a few times, curious whether Zain took part in the prayers too. He never did, as far as Aiden could tell. Whether it was because he preferred to pray by himself or wasn’t religious… who knew. Aiden wouldn’t have been surprised if it was the latter. Zain didn’t seem the type to pray to anything, too self-important to think there could be a higher judgment for his actions. Aiden honestly couldn’t imagine that arrogant dick showing any humility and prostrating himself on the floor.
Anyway, fuck him. Aiden refused to think about the asshole more than he had to. If he thought about Zain too much, he felt like his blood vessels were going to explode from sheer rage. It was a novel feeling for him. Aiden didn’t hate people. He wasn’t that kind of person. But Zain Rahim made him feel like a different person altogether. That dick was—
Right, not thinking about him. Clearly he still needed to work on it.
Anyway.
There were a few computers around the house, but they were password-protected, to Aiden’s disappointment—not that he was surprised. His hope of stealing someone’s phone to contact his family had been crushed as well: the staff didn’t seem to carry their phones on them. Aiden had gotten up very early yesterday and actually seen the staff hand over their phones to security guards upon entering the estate. Presumably they got their phones back when their work day was over.
Either way, that plan was a bust. The phones were locked up in the security room that was off limits to him. It was one of the few places in the house that was, actually. Aiden had discovered that he could go pretty much anywhere except for the security room and Zain’s office on the first floor. So he explored to his heart’s content, avoiding only the left wing of the house where Zain’s bedroom was apparently located.
The worst part was, he wasn’t allowed outside at all. The moment he attempted to step out into the gardens surrounding the house, security guards seemed to materialize out of nowhere, none too gently pushing him inside. It was annoying but not entirely unexpected.
What was a little unexpected was that there weren’t any women around. All of the staff were men, and none of them said a single word to Aiden, their eyes downcast and their expressions blank. Despite their unsettling silence, they were incredibly efficient.
The house ran like clockwork, with meals served three times a day in the dining room. If Aiden missed a meal, no one bothered to feed him—Aiden had learned it the hard way the previous morning.
Despite being allowed out of the room for a few weeks now, he and Zain had rarely crossed paths. It seemed Zain might have been away on some business trip. But apparently he was now back home. Aiden had found out about it when he’d arrived for breakfast yesterday. He’d turned around and walked out. He had gone hungry for the rest of the day, hoping that he’d be brought food to his room if he refused to eat with the asshole.
He hadn’t been brought food.
Instead, a silent servant brought him a note from Zain after he missed breakfast again.
Stop being a child and eat. You were the one who wanted to be out of your room so badly, so you won’t get room service anymore. You will eat in the dining room or you will starve if you’re so afraid of me. Your choice.
Aiden crumpled the note into a ball and threw it at the wall. Afraid? He wasn’t afraid of anything.
Screw it, he could stomach the dickhead’s presence. It wasn’t like they had to talk or anything. He wouldn’t even look at Zain.
But it was easier said than done.
Aiden’s determination to ignore Zain seemed to dissipate the moment he strode into the dining room and saw that asshole seated at the head of the table, drinking coffee and browsing on his phone, looking like the king of the world in his snow-white robe—it was called a thobe, if Aiden wasn’t mistaken. His headwear—Aiden wasn’t sure what that was called—was off, revealing thick, slightly wavy black hair that didn’t soften the man’s stony, cold exterior at all. His facial hair was in beard territory today, and Aiden felt a rush of envy—he could barely grow stubble, much less a beard.
Aiden glowered at him as he sat down, but his hateful look was entirely wasted, because Zain didn’t even glance at him.
Scowling, Aiden turned to the food and tucked in, telling himself to just ignore the dickhead.
Except once his stomach was appeased with the delicious khuzi, he became terrible at ignoring the other person in the room. In his defense, Zain Rahim wasn’t an easy man to ignore. Aiden’s eyes seemed to gravitate toward him, no matter how hard he tried to keep them on his food.
The worst part was, the bastard didn’t seem to have any issue ignoring him. He barely lifted his gaze from his food, eating with such a detached, cold attitude he might as well have been eating alone.
“I want to contact my family,” Aiden said, breaking the silence.
Zain didn’t even lift his gaze from his food. “No.”
Aiden gritted his teeth. “My mom has a weak heart. The grief might kill her.”
“And you contacting her to tell her your current situation wouldn’t?” Zain said, still not looking at him, as if Aiden wasn’t worthy of even a brief glance.
It was fucking infuriating.
Aiden grabbed an apple and threw it at the asshole’s head.
The smack as it hit Zain’s arrogant mouth was incredibly, immensely satisfying.
Aiden grinned, but his grin faded as Zain slowly lifted his gaze, the look in his dark eyes chilling him to his core.
As if in slow motion, Zain took a napkin and pressed it against his split lip. The drop of blood looked obscenely red against the snow-white napkin and Zain’s white thobe.
Aiden’s stomach clenched. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he said, trying not to sound too defensive. Violence against the person who had bought him like cattle was justified. It was.
For a long, charged moment, Zain didn’t say anything, staring him down. “You refused to cooperate, but I still let you out of your room,” he said at last, very quietly. “I can just as easily lock you up there again. Don’t test my patience, boy.”
God, Aiden hated that a part of him wanted to drop his gaze meekly and submit to this man’s will. “And you don’t test mine. You might have bought me like a thing, but I’m not a thing—I’m a human being. The least you can do is look at me when I’m talking to you.”
The tight look Zain gave him was that of irritation mixed with… with something Aiden couldn’t put his finger on.
“Fine,” Zain said. “I’m looking at you. Now what?”
Pinned under that heavy, intense gaze, Aiden realized what people meant when they said to be careful what you wished for.
Aiden wet his dry lips with his tongue. He felt parched, uneasy in his own skin. “I want to negotiate.”
“Negotiate,” Zain repeated, as if he didn’t understand the word. It seemed almost mocking, and Aiden glowered at him, feeling a rush of pure hatred again. God, he’d never known that hatred could feel like this, all-consuming and overwhelming his every sense, making his hands tremble with it.
“Yes, negotiate. You said if I cooperated with you, my situation would improve. What exactly did you mean? Will you let me contact my family if I do my best to keep your brother in line?” God, he couldn’t believe he was even considering it.
Zain looked at him as if he were stupid. “Of course not.”
Aiden took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw another apple at the asshole’s face. Or something sharper. Like his fork. Or the knife. He’d never had homicidal urges until he’d met this man.
“Then what did you mean?” he said with forced calm.
“If you cooperate, I’ll pay you a million dollars when I let you go home next year.”
Aiden stared at him before shaking his head, incredulous.
“Ten million,” Zain said.
Aiden just laughed.
“Fifty.”
Aiden laughed again. Jesus, this man was filthy rich. “Wow, I’m so glad that at least I’d be a very expensive whore.”
“You’ll also get more freedom,” Zain said, ignoring his snide remark. “You’ll get a better room, with windows. You’ll be allowed to go outside. If you’re very cooperative, I might let you accompany me off the island or even allow you trips to Dubai by yourself—accompanied by bodyguards, of course.”
Aiden chewed on his lip, considering it. It was tempting. Very tempting. Being able to leave the island meant more opportunities to escape or at least to contact his family. He might not be locked up in his room anymore, but Aiden knew he would go crazy if he remained confined in this house for a year. He wanted to go outside. He wanted to go home. A year of this seemed like forever right now.
“Fine,” he said, even though a voice at the back of his mind whispered that he was selling his soul to the devil. He quashed that voice. Being stubborn was stupid. Principles wouldn’t get him home. Gadiel wasn’t repulsive or anything. Maybe he could make it work. Maybe. “I’m willing to cooperate. What do you want me to do?”
Zain took a sip of his tea, his eyes glinting with mild satisfaction—the bastard didn’t look surprised by his acquiescence at all, as if he had expected it. It made Aiden’s fingers itch with the urge to smash his fist against that arrogant face.
But there was also something else in Zain’s eyes, an emotion Aiden couldn’t quite read. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Zain was also displeased. Which made no fucking sense. How could he be displeased and satisfied at the same time? Why would he be displeased at all?
“Gadiel wants to see you soon. As expected, his supposed human decency stood no chance against his inability to keep it in his pants.”
Aiden’s stomach knotted up.
Leaning back in his chair, Zain heaved a sigh. “But you had a point: your inexperience might be a hindrance. My brother is…” He grimaced. “He’s a horny idiot who thinks with his dick whenever he sees a handsome man. It will be hard for you to keep his interest since you lack the skills. But you will do it.”
Aiden blinked, wondering if it was the language barrier.
“I will?” Aiden said with a laugh. “And how am I supposed to do it?”
Zain’s expression was unmoved. “I don’t care. I just want results. There are… rumors around. About Gadiel’s inclinations. I couldn’t entirely quash them, so he’s going to be under increased scrutiny until his marriage. Gadiel is not to even look at other men that way this year. You will have to become the perfect little sex pet of his dreams, so perfect that his attention doesn’t stray.”
Looking down, Aiden realized he was gripping his knife too hard. It was blunt and useless against anything but fruit, but the temptation to throw it at the dickhead’s face was becoming nearly irresistible.
“A perfect little sex pet,” he repeated slowly, trying to keep the rage that was choking him out of his voice. “If you wanted a perfect little sex pet for your brother, you should have bought him one. You can’t buy a poodle and then expect it to guard your house.”
Zain’s bland expression didn’t change. “The poodle will have to learn,” he had the gall to say. “So are you going to cooperate or not?”
Aiden let out a sigh through his gritted teeth. “You might be used to getting your own way every time, but newsflash, Your Highness: you can’t just order someone without any experience with men to suddenly become a pro at keeping another guy’s attention solely on him for a year. Even the high and mighty Sheikh Zain ibn Mustafa Al Rahim can’t will those nonexistent skills into existence.”
For a long, charged moment, they stared—glared—at each other, at an impasse.
Aiden almost cheered aloud when Zain was the first to look away.
“Fine. I’ll help. You can ask me anything about him.” Zain’s tone was short, clipped, as if every word pained him. “I’m aware of my brother’s tastes.” His lips twisted. “More aware than I ever wanted to be.”
Aiden scoffed. “How is knowing his sexual preferences going to compensate for the complete lack of practical experience?”
Zain looked at him dispassionately. “Knowledge is power. A well-informed lover is better than an ignorant whore. Every man has a weakness. Luckily for you, I know my brother’s.” Glancing at his watch, Zain got to his feet and headed toward the door.
Aiden frowned. “Wait, you’re going? You didn’t—you didn’t tell me anything useful!”
“Later. I’m late for my meeting as it is. My helicopter was supposed to leave five minutes ago.”
“Right. As if you can’t tell your pilot to wait for you.”
“Of course I can,” Zain said without looking up, typing on his phone. “If I had something important detaining me.”
Aiden vividly imagined curling his hand into a fist and smashing it against the asshole’s haughty face.
The fantasy gave him a visceral satisfaction, but as soon as the door closed after Zain, Aiden felt a peculiar sort of emptiness, his insides pulsing with hatred that needed an outlet—needed its target. Badly.
Christ, he’d never felt such hatred. He wanted to chase after Zain and make that dick look at him, pay him some real attention, make Zain treat him like a fucking person and not a thing that was at the bottom of his priorities.
Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.
God, Aiden hated him so much. So much.
